The Tales of Parth and Beyond
by Squishie
Summary: An original story of a fantasy world where races of many kinds coexist with humans naturally, but when the dwarves leave their empire on Parth to carve a new destiny in Jøtunníss, their abandoned cities are rumored to be home to a new kind of darkness.


**Author's Note: **I started this story a few months ago but I didn't get very far. I wrote a lot of notes, started to create languages, drew maps, etc. I have a lot planned out but not too much written. I thought I would throw this up here to see if anyone likes it / it's worth continuing. On that note, I would love healthy criticism! Thank you.

Standing outside the grandiose doors of the Great Chambers of Thal'quim was Emyr, a pale elf with matching yellowish hair and eyes, dressed in green robes of delicate fibers. His face was still as his eyes stalked those that passed and his hands held each other behind his back in an attempt to look important and regal. The symbols trailing his robes starting at the right shoulder down to the ankle indicated he was an emissary of the city but the color claimed "in training". It certainly created mixed conclusions on those that looked upon him often; some attempted to respect him and his position while others grinned and knew he held very little importance in the moment. His inherent snobby nature caused his nose to turn at those who underestimated him and he would recall their face and name, for he had all the intentions of making them his joke in years to come. But for now, he bared these trials with grinding teeth and false smiles, nodding his head to passers-by and retaining his princely appearance.

On and off the young elf would hear a word or two through the doors, causing his tall ears to flick with interest. It was highly irregular that he was kept out of meetings with the city's elites, but the _Lallom_ were insistent on his ignorance in the matter. His nose upturned as he briefly glanced to the doors, annoyed the design of them was to keep even the keen elfish ears from listening in. Breathing in through his nose, his eyes rolled upwards to the ceiling as he let out a sigh of boredom. As if they had known his waning patience, the doors jolted with a great groan and then slowly opened to reveal the _Lallom_ sitting at a long table in the back of the room and Withlem, the emissary who's charge he was in, walking towards him.

Emyr smiled slightly in his relief that the waiting was over and nodded politely to the city's solemn seated government. Standing tall and proud, he waited the emissary to pass him by before turning to follow, his eyes detailing his trainer's moves and emotionless face. Opening his mouth to ask a question, he waited until they were far enough away from the doors that groaned to shut once more.

"What was so important that –" Emyr started.

"We are heading to Ly'Illa today. The ship awaits us at Port Five and we have no time to delay," Withlem answered quickly and without much effort. It was as if he had been told to say just that or practiced it in the chambers. He made no glance backwards nor further gestures and the younger simply raised his eyebrows in surprised. Following his footsteps, the pair walked through the halls unquestioned and silent, only the second of which was unusual. As they approached the arch leading to the outside, Emyr took one last glance around the stronghold to wish it a silent farewell. Lifting his hang and keeping his index and middle finger together, he waved the hand around in a small circle to wave goodbye while they descended the stair path into the city.

"This will quite the opportunity to see your sister, I must say," Withlem very suddenly said, a smile washing over his face as he looked back to his apprentice. Though attempting to hide his surprise and quickly lowering his hand, Emyr nodded silently with a mixture of confusion and happiness showing in his light features. "Five years, has it been? She will be able to leave the city then."

"Four and a half, actually," Emyr corrected delicately, averting his eyes from any look he was bound to receive. "She writes to me often and says they are preparing her apprenticeship soon."

"Good, good," the older elf nodded while turning them down the Argent Path leading them directly to the dock. Emyr raised his hand and finger, opening his mouth to say something once more but instead laid the index on his lip, contemplating exactly what was happening. Normally they gave them a day's notice, which was enough to pack a few valuables and discuss the trip's agenda. The entire process was highly secretive and rushed, leaving the apprentice confused and curious; fearful of ruining their open communication by asking questions again, he chose to follow blindly and hope the trip to the magical city would be enough time for him to explain everything. Expecting them to simply board at Port Five, Emyr's eyes wandered over the various homes and shops that lined the path and the various people there. The humans were second in population here to elves and all the rest were in small proportions. The dwarves kept to themselves in their claimed peninsula or in their new frozen home of Jøtunníss, carving themselves a kingdom. Gnomes were scarce and difficult to find, though he knew of plenty in the _Worthum_ district. Centaurs hated the construction of major cities and avoided them at all costs. Trolls were really the only other race that settled everywhere, spreading at as fast of a pace as humans. As his gaze lingered on a female human selling fabric, he had unknowingly continued on while Withlem stopped at a door.

"Emyr!" the emissary yelled impatiently over his shoulder and as the elf turned to face the voice that called him, the brunette elf was already pounding on the door. The door was still not opened by the time the apprentice was behind him and Withlem pounded again, this time much harder. From behind it the pair heard a groan and a hand placed on the door; a male voice obviously groaned and grumbled about something before the handle was turned and the door opened slightly.

"_What?_" his heavy voice barely made out in Elfish with a heavy human accent.

"We leave now. Get your things and your men in order," Withlem demanded with little concern to the man's state. The door barely budged but the man definitely budged behind it, sighing.

"Don't have full team," he force replied with the speed of a child elf and started to close the door when a thud forced it back and slammed into his head. "Argh – what the –" he shouted in English.

"You have had three _weeks_ to get your team assembled!" Withlem announced rather loudly in English, keeping his hand on the door and with enough force to leave it unmoved. The human had disappeared for a moment before sliding out from behind the door, his left hand on his head and the right smacking the older elf's hand off the door.

"And I need another! Do you and the _Lallom_ really think it's that easy to get a decent team together in this city? It's full of … merchants and … people!" he stumbled in English much more comfortably than Elvish, waving his hands all over the place to emphasize his jumbled point. He would have continued rambling on about the time he needed if the brunette elf hadn't suddenly moved in very close to his face; backing up against the door frame, the human pulled his head back to get further away and opened his eyes widely. "Whoa, there, buddy. Personal space being violated –"

"Are you .. _hangover, _Daven?" Withlem asked with a hint of disgust as he sniffed the air around the human.

"_No_," Daven replied with the same tone as the elf, putting his hand on the man's shoulder and pushing him away. "It's called hung-over, and that requires someone to have _stopped_ drinking –" he was interrupted quickly by the snicker of Emyr, who was glanced at by both parties before they returned to their conversation. "Is that against the rules?"

Withlem sighed as he brought a hand to his head, pinching the area between his eyes as he took a breath to compose himself. Emyr watched him carefully, studying the man he had always known to have a secure hold over his emotions and was sophisticated enough to never talk to someone in such a manner; however, within the few minutes of this conversation, the apprentice was able to discern that this was not a sophisticated human and nothing about this interaction required elegance. Putting his hands up with palms open to the human, the elder elf sighed and then pointed to the building he was currently defending.

"We have paid for this place for long enough. They will be sending guards to evict you in minutes and you have nowhere to go but on that ship. So, once more: get your men assembled and we'll meet you at Port Five," he stated as if giving directions to a child, slowly and articulately, and put his hand almost directly in Daven's face before he could reply. Shaking his head, he spun around on his heel and headed further down the path towards said port. Emyr paused in front of the door as he inspected the human carefully, wondering why the _Lallom_ would be so interested in him: there was nothing particular about him except a few scars and unkempt facial hair.

"What?" Daven sneered at the staring yellow eyes, glancing him up and down before turning back into the dark corridor and mumbled, "Get a tan." And then the door was shut. Blinking in surprise, Emyr lingered still in front of the closed door as he mouthed the words _get a tan_ with a confused look on his face. Trying to discern what Daven could've meant by this, he turned down the Argent Path.

Thal'quim was a great elvish city built on the eastern edge of Parth, the largest landmass on the planet. Most of the population was isolated on Parth and many wars had been fought for its control. But this city hadn't seen too many battles; it has always been a merchant city for trading and traveling. Built by elves three centuries ago, the city was constructed on a series of hills, giving onlookers from incoming ships quite the spectacular view. The hall of the _Lallom_, or "panel" in English where all city matters are discussed and finalized, sat on the highest hill and stretched the tallest to the sky. The architecture was otherwise no different than the other buildings of the city. Most of the buildings were cylinder in shape with stairs winding around the outside to the upper layers and the highest point was always an open venue for official meetings. The higher the building, the better impression this view made on visitors. From Port Five, Daven could see the great merchant district in its afternoon glory and the Hall of the _Lallom_ looming over the city. He _could_ see all this if he had been awake.

"Daven, you sonofabitch, wake up!" Riff boomed in his obnoxiously loud voice as his callused hand slapped the man's foot that stuck out. From under the blanket, where his head was as well, could be heard a loud groan and the foot was pulled underneath for hiding purposes. His friends and coworkers were swiftly invading his room; Lilianne, Riff and Zal all looked around his room with flashes of disgust and shock washing over their faces.

"Oh I see," the only female sneered, waving the dagger she was using to clean her fingernails around the room. "_You_ get a single room with a bathroom to yourself and us slobs all shove into one."

"Speak for yourself," the mage grumbled as he walked by Lilianne, running his hand across the wooden walls of the room. "I am a very clean person."

"Guys _please_," Daven begged before the conversation could escalate. Rolling his heavy body over the side of the bed, a leg fell out first and his knee slammed into the ground very unceremoniously accompanied with a small grunt. A hand soon landed on the ground and he paused, trying to figure himself out before fully getting himself up. Unfortunately, Riff did not afford him the time to gather his bearings and the hands grabbed Daven from behind and hoisted him up into the air. Flailing immediately like a small child annoyed by its father, Daven waved his arms and legs in an attempt to purposefully harm Riff while Lilianne fell into a chair laughing and Zal snickered quietly.

Anyone watching the scene could easily gather that these four humans were close friends and long time coworkers. The struggle of the current situation was an ongoing joke; Riff was naturally stronger and larger than Daven, though he would ever admit it so Riff would prove himself by beating the brunette in any series of strength challenges but the most embarrassing was obviously being lifted by the man. He did it five years ago during a battle when Daven fell underneath a body of a good sized Mongrel, a species that lived mostly underground and worked in shadow magic, and was unable to move. Riff grabbed his arm and pulled him both out from under the body and up into the air and there, while flying upwards at the grace of an archer, Daven threw a fit. Since then the group will not let it go and continue to find great pleasure in his discomfort.

Finally landing a foot on the archer's thigh, Daven was released and dropped to the ground where a hand flew over his mouth and he braced himself against a wall. Riff's laugh pierced the room and his large body collapsed onto the bed, causing a loud snap sound to undermine the laughing as Daven's eyes widened at the bed frame.

"Get off, fatass, you're going to break it!" he shouted at him but made no move to enforce it. He knew better than to try anything physical with Riff, let alone while his hangover was finally setting in. "And I can't help it that they like me more–"

"They don't like you at all!" Lilianne cut in immediately, throwing her hands up in the air as if the words he just uttered were the most ridiculous she had ever heard. "Withlem thinks you're a drunken idiot with an extreme amount of luck."

"_Withlem_ …" Daven started, shaking his finger at her. "doesn't make these arrangements. The _Lallom_ do. And maybe if Riff wasn't such a classless moron with no sense of etiquette, you had _some_ moral code about stealing and Zal could charm more than a baby, they would like you more. AND Withlem can shove his–"

"We're embarking," cut in a quiet voice from the doorway, causing all the humans to strengthen their shoulders and sit up more politely (except Riff). All eyes moved to the doorframe where a small, pale elf peered in seriously in his clean green robes. His lips pushed together slightly as if he was holding back a further comment and after a few seconds of lingering awkward silence, he nodded his head and turned down the hall, disappearing from their view. From the furthest corner of the room, Zal conjured a small ball of energy at the tip of his index and middle finger and shot them at the wall next to the door. It hit the wall and bounced off onto the door, pushing it to swing shut. As Emyr ascended the stairs to the deck of the ship, he heard the slam and the burst of laughter immediately after.

Blinking a few times at the closed door to the loud room, the elf climbed the stairs onto the deck where Withlem was standing at the edge, arms folded behind and staring out into the waters. Emyr forced a hint of a smile on his face as he walked up from behind, eyeing the crème colored robes that symbolized Thal'quim and authority. Shifting his light colored eyes out in the same direction as the larger elf, he squinted briefly onto their seemingly endless journey before looking down at their feet.

"May I ask a question?" Emyr posed very quietly, acting ashamed of the question before asking it.

"Of course."

"Why do we tolerate him?"

Withlem pushed his lips together and his eyebrows furrowed, looking angry at first but as he took in a breath, his face relaxed and he nodded in approval of the question.

"Hmm," he started just as quietly as the younger elf and took in another breath. He let go of his right hand from behind and put it on the ledge in front of them. "He's annoying, a drinker and plays kindly only to those who pay him. But he does his job, efficiently and he keeps our secrets. He's trustworthy just very ... _difficult_ to deal with." Lifting his hand off the ledge and onto the smaller elf's shoulder, the brunette smiled down at him and turned away, walking down the stairs Emyr had just come from to retire to his room. Emyr smiled politely in response to the hand and nodded, more impressed with Withlem's ability to diplomatically compliment someone like Daven than anything else. He pinched his lips together momentarily as he realized the other questions that followed; he was still unsure why they were heading to Ly'Illa, why Daven had to come and bring a crew in tow. Turning around to lean against the wall of the ship, the pale elf sighed and watched the ship leave the port. He watched silently as his tall, majestic buildings he knew as home shrunk shorter than his fingers, lost in his thoughts over the strange events of the day. When the light around him bowed to night and nothing was seen but flat waters, the blonde elf quietly left the deck down to the second.


End file.
